CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By the end of the day, I'm so tired and sore, I think I have a sprain in my everything. We were given scrolls containing our schedules for this week at some point, and all I managed to do was sigh in relief that I don't have a class tonight, and now I'm dragging myself home. I leave the Ministry, walk some distance, then Apparate since I know our Floo is closed.
Walking through the front door is an ordeal in itself. I pretend to listen to Mother's updated dinner plans, and insist that my day went fine, even though she heard speculation on the wireless that I was held hostage at the Ministry because none of the reporters were allowed to contact me.
"Mother, everything was fine, we were just busy and I wasn't allowed to talk to them. No, I won't 'just let them know' I'm fine next time, even for your sake. I'd rather send you an owl." I say, hanging up my robes and undoing the top button of my shirt.
The doorbell rings. Mother rushes in the direction of the kitchen and calls out for me to get it so she can grab the hors d'oeuvres. I walk back through the entrance parlour and heave open the main door to the Manor, and standing there, with a bunch of flowers is - what the fuck?
"Potter?" I want to scream. "What in the bloody hell..?"
"Your mother invited me, and would not take no for an answer. Malfoy, why does she think we're together? What have you told her?" Potter says, stuffing the flowers in my arms and pulling off his scarf, looking somewhat annoyed.
"I told her the Prophet lied about everything and not to believe a word of it, but neither of them listened to me." I reply with a shrug.
"Well Ginny is massively pissed off that I'm here, not that you care, and Ron thinks I'll never come back."
"Don't worry, the Dungeons have been permanently charmed shut." I say, trying to make a joke but Potter looks at me rather darkly. "Right, well, come on through, let's get this over with."
Mother, bless her stupid little heart, is an amazing hostess, but it's obvious to all of us Potter doesn't want to be here. He's sitting next to me looking like he's got a broomstick up his arse, he won't relax, and only gives one or two-word answers to anything we say. I have to get him talking about something he's interested in, if only to break the horrible awkward silences.
"So Potter," I say, then correct myself, "I mean, Harry. I heard Ron Weasley just got back from his honeymoon? Who did he marry?"
Potter shoots me a look that I can't quite read. "He married Hermione, Draco, I thought you knew that."
"Oh yes," I say, even though I hadn't even realised they were together, and try to change the subject. "So what is Granger up to these days?"
"She's the one who wrote the law that freed the Elves and allowed them to obtain wands, as well as centaurs, vampires and giants, if they want one."
Father gasps aloud. "My word, how dreadful."
Potter turns to look at him. "Actually, it's been pretty good, because they have to be taught how to use them properly, just like witches and wizards, and it brings them into the realm of our law. So if they do misbehave now, we can handle it, whereas before it was pandemonium."
"And if the giants all learn how to cast spells and want to take over the whole society, how would we feeble tiny wizards be able to stop them?" Father posits, looking rather offended about the whole thing.
Potter starts to grin. "Actually, we have only had one application so far, and I think the first thing Grawp did was sit on his wand and burn his-"
"Wonderful." Interrupts Father, with a cough. Potter just laughs and I work hard not to snicker.
"Anyway, you'd have to ask Hermione about it all. I only get the gist of these things." Potter says, now taking a bite of pudding with much more gusto.
"Oh, we should have all your friends round one day!" Mother suggests brightly, and I inwardly cringe. Please, no.
Potter almost starts choking on his sticky toffee pudding. "Actually, it might be better to have Draco round to ours next, I think Ron and Hermione would like to get to know him a bit more."
Is it me, or did his 'get to know' sound more like he was saying 'drive rusty nails into'?
"Where are you all living now? Not still with those Muggles, surely?" Mother asks in an idly curious way, though I can tell she'd love to stop by his house unannounced and do their interior design for them or something.
"Grimmauld Place." Potter says, and now it's my turn to choke. He looks at me with a smirk as I cough up a raisin from my pudding.
"The Grimmauld Place? The one that we were in line to inherit next?" I sputter. I remember being seriously angry about that. Mother used to make us visit Walburga when I was a child and I hated her so much I couldn't wait until she died so we could absorb that building into the Malfoy portfolio.
"Well, it's only temporary until we find something better." He admits, and that makes me even angrier. That place is a palace compared to what he's used to. Sure, it's a massive downgrade from a Manor, but it's perfectly respectable.
"So," Continues Potter, with a very devious air all of a sudden. "How did you both feel when you found out Draco was gay?"
"I'm not gay." I automatically snap.
"Don't be petulant, Draco." Mother says, then turns to Potter with a charming smile. "And we were fine with it, especially since he seemed to have such good taste."
"I did always suspect…" Father chimes in, and I almost have a heart attack.
I glare daggers over at Potter who looks like he's trying not to burst out laughing at this whole bloody charade. He's a git. I always knew there was a fine line between healthy, harmless evil and pure sadism, and Potter's crossing it.
While Mother's rambling on fondly about that one time I tried on her clothes when I was six, and Potter is listening intently, I'm plotting devious ways to kill the bastard without getting into trouble. But where would I hide the body? The first place the Ministry would look is under my bed, I'm sure.
When we've finished our coffee and the table has been cleared, Mother pipes up again. "Draco, darling, why don't you give Harry the tour?"
Oh Merlin, not this. But I suppose anything is better than sitting here, and I don't actually have to give him the tour. They'll never know I didn't explain the significance of the 1820's painting of my great Uncle Malfoy.
"Of course." I say smoothly, getting up. "Come on - Harry."
Potter follows me out of the dining room, looking somewhat apprehensive about the whole prospect.
"Just get out of here." I say, once we're away from the room enough. "I'll tell them you left right after the tour."
Potter perks up a little. "Thanks, Malfoy. And I never did apologise for… before. You know, at the fundraiser."
"You mean we're apologising for being absolute gits, now?" I say, feigning surprise.
"Yeah well you were a git as well." Potter replies petulantly. "But I was going through some stuff with Ron and the wedding, and that night was a bloody fiasco, and I drank way too much and stupidly thought I could be friends with you instead of Ron, which only made everything worse. So, sorry about that."
Huh. I try to recall the evening as though from his point of view, which I had never considered before. If he'd just been arguing with Weasley that explains why he was there by himself, and if he actually thought he wanted to be friends with me, that partially explains why he wouldn't get off my case.
"I actually thought you were hanging out with me that night because you thought I was still a Death Eater." I admit out of nowhere. Mother probably spiked my virgin cocktail.
"Oh, no, bloody hell. Well, everyone else seems to, but that's probably Skeeter's fault. Just keep showing up for training and everyone will realise you're not that bad."
I roll my eyes. "Seriously, 'not that bad'? Is that everyone's new catch phrase for me today? Don't strain yourself trying to flatter me Potter."
Potter chuckles. "No, your ego is big enough already, I'd hate to make it worse."
"My ego is wonderful, you're the one-" I say, then realise I don't actually want to start an argument. "You know what, you're not so bloody bad either. When you're not being a self-righteous Golden Boy git."
Potter reacts as though this is the best compliment anyone's ever given him, and he beams, all teeth. "Right. I'm off then. See you tomorrow?"
"I suppose you will." I reply, thinking of a whole new day of hard work. And a whole week, month, and lifetime of it after that. Ugh.
When he's gone, I wait a respectable amount of time, and re-enter the dining room. Mother is absolutely thrilled about the whole evening, and all she can talk about is how me knocking boots with Potter is clearly doing wonders for the Malfoy reputation.
"And I simply must smuggle myself into the Ministry so I can be seen putting some support behind some of these crazy new laws that are being passed." Mother says. "Maybe I can even have dinner with the Granger girl!"
"Those laws will be the death of our society." Father puts in sourly.
The next day goes by much the same as the first, with periods of activity then a certain calm. The time seems to fly by and I think I'm picking up on some of the terminology and short-hand that everyone seems to use. Though when someone barked at me to fetch them an SA-14 form and I just looked blankly at them until they did it themselves, how was I meant to know it was a Suspect Acquisition form, with 14 being code for a Dementor? I mean, cut me some slack.
When the clock hits 6, half of us stop what we're doing and head down the corridor towards the class, and the other half have to finish clearing up so they can leave. After we all troop in, I realise the class I'm in has plenty of familiar faces, though I can't put names to most of them, and of course there are no Slytherins present. Though it'd be nice to have something in common with anyone if I have to really go through with this.
Weasley is the last one in, and he walks in with Shacklebolt, who presumably is our instructor. He's meant to be the Minister of Magic but I don't think the elections have officially happened yet, so I imagine he's still in charge of the Aurors as well. It's terribly inconvenient not being able to read the newspapers any more, I have to piece together the news in a very fractured way. Stupid Potter.
"First, well done to everyone for pulling together during this time. We're all working hard, and hopefully things will get back to normal soon, and we can stop paying you all overtime." Shacklebolt's voice is strong and good-humoured, so everyone's at ease automatically. But I can't help feeling like the odd one out, as though no one believes I should be here, and Shacklebolt probably feels the same way.
"We're going to be looking at Concealment and Disguise today, because if we're ever going to send you out into the field, we want to be a hundred percent confident that whatever else you might do, you'll be hidden and untraceable. So even if you make a mess, you'll stay safe enough to get back to the Ministry. That sound good?" Everyone around nods to Shacklebolt and each other.
He introduces us to the Disillusionment charm, tells us about a book on it that we should get, and performs an example of it on himself. He doesn't necessarily disappear, but fades into the background so well that unless he moves or the light catches him oddly, it's hard to tell he's there. He also shows us some Invisibility Cloaks, but I can tell they're knock-offs because they're visible in the right light and the right angle too. And one of them has a frayed edge that you can basically see the person through.
He moves on to disguising our appearance with Transfiguration, and while I'm not a big fan of having to point my own wand at my face when casting a spell that could go badly wrong, he makes it seem easy. We all get a small mirror to use, mine is one of the least cracked and smudged ones, and he gives himself a large handlebar moustache, and after a while and a bit of effort he makes his hair and skin paler as though he was white.
"It's all about focus." He says. "Verbal spell-casting allows your mind to wander when you're young and more worried about homework and dinner-time, but we have to concentrate hard to get the same results."
During the practical part, things go a little haywire. Weasley's beard won't stop growing and people who try to help him keep getting tangled up in it, so I stay at the back of the room and shoot a Finite incantatum at him, and when he realises it was me he just scowls even more. The git.
I manage to give myself a rather good tan, and darken my hair a shade, but I can't ever envision needing to grow a beard in a hurry or make my shoulders broader. Maybe my nose could be less pointy, but otherwise I'm already pretty perfect.
"Right, now everybody put yourselves back to normal and line up. I'm going to stand here at the door, and you have to transform yourself in front of me before you can pass this class." Shacklebolt announces with a careless grin, and me and a few others groan, but go to get in line. Weasley pushes in front as if he has some authority, and I'm about half way back.
It takes a good twenty minutes for the people in front of me to get past Shacklebolt, who is holding a clipboard and ticking off our names as a 'pass' as we leave. He's sent some people to the back of the queue already if they can't Transfigure themselves properly the first time. If they fail the second time, I believe they'll be going home.
When it's my turn, I decide to show off, and give myself an ample pair of breasts, much darker skin, a rounder nose, a giant afro, and I conjure a pair of sunglasses and strut out of the room confidently. Shacklebolt lets out a deep laugh and ticks by my name, so I celebrate a little by shaking my backside all the way down the hallway.
When I step back into the Auror offices, I hear voices so I slow down and stay still, automatically hoping to eavesdrop. It seems that Potter and Weasley are having an argument. I conceal myself, rather expertly if I do say so myself, and step towards them.
"Look, Ron, you're being paranoid, I know for a fact that he couldn't have leaked that parchment because I was there last night."
"You might be under his thumb or shagging him or whatever but don't use it as an excuse to be blind!"
"Shagging him? Don't be an idiot-"
"If I'm an idiot it's only because I let you have it off with Ginny when I knew you'd pull something like this! The Prophet had it right all along, didn't they? Now you've covering his precious arse again when he's the prime suspect in all this."
They're both hissing at one another, and Potter looks as absolutely horrified as I feel. Prime suspect? Precious arse? What's going on?
Potter seems to pull himself together before I can. "No, you're an idiot because you're letting fear and prejudice turn you into a massive twat, instead of being rational and realising that an alibi is an alibi, and that I wouldn't lie to cover anyone's arse for this, not yours, not Hermione's, and not bloody Malfoy's."
"How do you even know it was Malfoy that you were with? I bet any one of his ferrety little family could have posed as him and-"
"You think I wouldn't know, after everything that's happened?"
"So the Prophet is right? Are you cheating on Ginny?"
"For bloody hell's sake, Ron, are you more worried about the information leaking or the state of me and Ginny? She's going back to Hogwarts in two weeks, she's already made it clear she won't be doing the long-distance thing." Potter says, softer now.
"Yeah, well…" Weasley seems determined to keep the argument going. "I still think you can't be sure about Malfoy and we should drop him from the program before it's too late."
"I definitely think the leak is coming from inside the department, but I know it wasn't Malfoy, okay? So we're going to do something about it, but we're not going to be unfair."
Ron mumbles something, and him and Potter seem to be automatically reconciled. They leave the office together, with Ron saying fondly, "I remember when all you wanted to do was stalk that little ferret, and I thought you were mad. But now I know how you felt."
I let go of a deep breath which I hadn't realised I was holding. My Disillusionment Charm is starting to wear off, and so is my self-Transfiguration. I have one white hand and one black one, and Merlin knows what my hair is doing. I quickly Untransfigure the rest of me, and leave the office before anyone behind me catches up with me and wonders what I was doing.
On the way home I re-play what I heard. Something – some information, some parchment – has leaked from the Auror department. And it's no wonder since they have no hiring standards at all right now. It could have been any one of us new people, or it could have been going on for a long time. All I know is that I'm a prime suspect, so I need to keep an eye out. If I can catch whoever did it, it'll take the suspicions off me and prove that I can hack it as an Auror.
I get home at 8.15, tired and with no appetite, but Mother insists I eat some dinner that was leftover, and gets me to tell her about my day. I tell her it was fine, but don't go into details, except for bragging that it turns out I'm pretty amazing at Concealment and Disguise. She's already wondering out loud when Potter will invite me to his place, whether I should stay the night, or whether that would make the 'wrong statement' about Malfoys, and I let her twitter on with her own thoughts as I try to relax. Her and Weasley should really get together, then they'd be able to concoct the most fantastic stories about mine and Potter's lovelife without us or reality interfering in any way.